Page 22 of Brave
“Nope, sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “When I ask a question, I want an answer. What’s going on with you? If somewhere between Black Light and now you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine, but you need to say so.”
“I haven’t changed my mind, Sir,” she shakily whispered, and scared as she was, she meant it. She was surprised how much she meant it. Those few moments when he’d held her back at Black Light, those had been the safest that she had felt in what felt like forever. As startled as she’d been the first time he’d bent her over, she stared up at him, unafraid. She didn’t know if she could trust it, but he hadn’t hurt her, and this blooming pulse of wanting inside her was trying mightily to convince her he never would. “Are… are you going to yell at me?”
He inhaled slow and deep, letting it out again almost in a growl. “Do I sound like I’m yelling?” he countered, calmly.
“Are… are you going to wh-whip me?” Tiny sparks of pain flashed along the periphery of her awareness as her constantly fidgeting fingers picked and picked at her own fingernails, cutting into the cuticles.
He tipped his head. “No. I’m not.”
Was he going to put her on the floor? Was he going to kick her? Sodomize her? Let someone else do it for him, because she wasn’t worth his time anymore?
“I’m not happy,” Carlson told her evenly. “I thought this matter was handled the last time we were back here. To be honest, I kind of feel like I’m being backed into a corner where I have to make a decision as to whether or not this is worth a second try.”
Her heart and shoulders both sank. Most days, she wasn’t worth anybody’s first effort, much less their second. Although she knew better than to say such a thing out loud, he seemed to hear it anyway and, in a heartbeat, his whole countenance changed.
His frown darkened and his stony gray eyes flashed, hard and cold. “Go ahead,” he dared. “Say it. I promise my belt will be off before you finish and I will absolutely set your ass on fire. Police might well be called, but the risk will be absolutely worth it.”
Every cord of tension in her shook. Her breath caught. Every inch of her believed him, and yet the thought of him whipping his belt from around his waist did not inspire the same palpitating response in her that Ethen grabbing her leash did.
Because Carlson wasn’t Ethen.
Carlson was calm. Even angry, he was calm. And caring. He was trying to take care of her, the way a good Dom should. Not because she deserved it. She didn’t. They barely even knew one another. But in a broken moment when she felt her most helpless, she had called him Sir and, for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, he had responded to that.
Carlson was safety, even as he—perhaps even because he—said, “I’m going to do something I never do. I’m going to give you until the count of three to explain what’s going on, and then I’m sorry, but I’m walking. If I can’t trust you to be honest with me—”
“I’m scared.” She knew better than to interrupt, but she couldn’t stop herself. Shaking, she picked at her fingernails.
“Okay,” he said evenly. “Of what?”
Of him. Of what he was going to do next. Of his following through with what he’d just promised and walking away. Leaving her without comfort, without safety. Without anything.
She faltered, restlessly fidgeting until he took hold of her hands. It wasn’t until he looked at her red-stained fingertips that she noticed she was bleeding. That scared her. Hurting herself was definitely against the rules and this could not be hidden. Pony would notice right away, and she would tell.
Breathing out another grim sigh, Carlson took her to the sink. Silent as a doll, she let him wash her hands. He took care to make sure the water was running warm before he put her hands under the faucet; that touched her. He soaped her hands, taking care also, even though he was so obviously annoyed, not to hurt her further as he washed the blood away until he could see what she’d done to herself.
He tsked, shaking his head once, but that was all. Shutting off the water, he swiped a rough paper towel from the dispenser next to the hand dryer. Gently, he dried around her raw cuticles, pausing to press and hold in the two spots that were still seeping crimson. “Is it me that you’re scared of?”
She watched the gentleness of his hands, the watery flow of tears growing inside her, stinging her eyes, filling up the back of her throat, making it hard to breathe. “No.”
Right now, he was probably the only person in the world that she wasn’t afraid of.
That realization on its own was equal parts terrifying to her, and amazing.
“Since I don’t think you can be trusted right now not to hurt yourself while we finish this, I would like you to put your hands on your head.” Releasing her, he backed up once more to lean against the door.
Her involuntary flinch as she adopted Ethen’s Inspection pose pierced all the way to her soul. But even with the ghosts this position spawned, standing like this before him felt just different enough to re-awaken that long buried need to serve that she’d been so sure Ethen had killed.
“Are you afraid of me now?” Carlson asked, making himself comfortable again.
“No, Sir.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He folded his arms. “Then maybe you’ll answer my question. The last time we were in this bathroom, I told you what my expectations were and you agreed to them. So, either you lied to my face, in which case we have a problem. Or something made you change your mind, in which case I deserve to know what that was so it can be addressed. If you’re deliberately testing your boundaries in the hopes of receiving another punishment, then I’ve got a problem and it will be addressed, but not in a way you’re going to like. So, which of those is it? Were you lying?”
Her chest tightened all over again. “No, Sir.”
“Were you bratting in the hopes of winning another spanking?”
Appalled, Puppy froze. She had never, would never brat. To ‘win’ a punishment? She’d spent every waking moment for two years living in such fear of them that just thinking about it now twisted her insides so sharply that for a moment she was afraid she might get sick.
